"I take my goals from you, and I promise you, if I cannot fulfill those objectives, I will come and join you as a protester."

I went to class on Thursday morning and when I got out the country has a new Prime Minister. Unbelievable. Ahmed Shafiq, who was a holdover from the Mubarak regime, was deeply unpopular and huge protests were planned to call for his resignation or removal on Friday. He was replaced by the military by a Essam Sharaf, a figure who the opposition leaders had proposed—a former Transportation Minister who resigned from the Mubarak government several years ago in protest, and who even joined the protests in Tahrir Square.

After Shafiq’s resignation, I spoke to a student who, like me, was in shock at the pace of the changes taking place. He was, also like me, a bit cautious. What does this mean? Is this a power play by the military? Or is there another explanation? And of course, the skeptic in me wants to approach it cynically. Prime Ministers aren’t replaced because the people protest and want it. But then, I thought, of course they are. And I had this conversation with the student—this is entirely logical. Why would those in power not listen to the people? They should. It makes sense. They have learned the lessons of the past month—the enormous power of people. Millions of people. In the street. It really makes perfect sense.

I guess I had a random thought about the labor protests in Wisconsin, and now spreading throughout the midwest US. I have seen and heard commentary comparing the situation there to this region. While there were some really inspiring signs of solidarity on both parts (pro-Wisconsin signs in Tahrir Square and vise versa), it seemed too facile for me. But what finally hit me was this revelation of what participatory democracy can look like. Because while the causes in both places are completely different, the common ground seems to lie in the belief that lasting change can happen through direct action. When I was protesting in New York in the lead up to the US invasion of Iraq, I thought the best possible outcome was to slow down the imperial war machine. The invasion could be delayed. A visible US opposition could convince US allies not to support the invasion. And I believe that we may have succeeded in those respects, though the ongoing tragedy makes it hard to find any kind of victory in those achievements. However, what I have witnessed in Egypt has forced me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about the possibilities of political action.

Two additional scenes from the surreal world I live in:

• On Wednesday night, the eve of his resignation/removal, the Prime Minister debated Egypt’s most famous writer (and an outspoken opposition figure) on television. A political debate! And a novelist!
• This morning (Friday), the new Prime Minister went back to Tahrir Square and proclaimed: "I take my goals from you, and I promise you, if I cannot fulfill those objectives, I will come and join you as a protester."

De-Mubarakization of the Metro

From the Metro station formerly known as Mubarak...


















From the NY Times. Photo and article by Mohamed El Dahshan. See the article here.

The Station Formerly Known As Mubarak

On Sunday, I rode the subway downtown and as I was exiting the car, I noticed a “correction” on the line map that appeared above the door. The “Mubarak” station was crossed out by a marker. I figured its renaming, and the renaming of anything associated with the former regime was inevitable (and this includes a room on our university campus). But I was touched to see it done so directly. So on my ride home, I was careful to check every available map, perhaps a half-dozen in all, and all of them had “Mubarak” crossed.

I wish I had a camera to take a picture of the sign. (I really should have one with me at all times.) It is a small thing, so small that I did not even notice it last week when I went downtown on the metro (and I am sure it had already been erased then).

As for Tahrir itself, it was still lively as there were still demonstrations taking place at various positions around the square. The largest congregation, I guess, may have been 1,000 people, and there were several smaller groups of perhaps a couple of hundred. There was a strike a couple of blocks off the square, at a bank building as well. There were army officers standing watch, but they did not appear to be positioned aggressively, but after Friday night, it seems like all bets are off.

Barbershop

I went to get my haircut last night. The young guys there who have been cutting my hair for the past three years were visibly giddy. I was actually last there on January 25, the day the protests began, and one of the barbers told me, with a note of cynicism, that nothing would come of it. That was a refrain that I heard repeated by Egyptian friends during the first couple of days.

Last night was a different story. He was trying to convince me to try a new hairstyle—for the revolution, he explained. (For what its worth, these folks are Coptic Christians, which I mention to emphasize the point that this revolution has widespread popular support and is not religious, as it sometimes has been portrayed though I think and hope this notion is now thoroughly discredited.) Add to the scene a television, which was showing Qadafi’s long speech (not the 30-second one). The speech was surreal. It was fun watching it there, and that took the edge of the devastating tragedy of what is happening there..

It is hard to describe the excitement of people, and what is happening on so many of the city’s streets. So many of these scenes seem like bad nationalist propaganda, with citizens working together happily and joyfully. But the new rainbow murals in my neighborhood are real. I will try to take some pictures.

After the revolution...

We arrived back in Egypt Sunday, and I started teaching yesterday. For now, I can give my initial impressions of my arrival. The sky was grey since there have been khamisin (sandstorms) this week. We went from the airport back to our apartment. I only saw one tank, which was a huge change from our trip to the airport when we left. Then, they were everywhere. On the ride in, the one I saw was parked in front of the J. W. Marriott Hotel, which is large compound out in the desert. It was pretty inconspicuous.

As we came into the neighborhood, I saw a few things that really excited me. On Road 216, there were a dozen or so young teenagers painting the curbs of the median on the road. It looked good. Then we made another turn onto Road 254 and there was another group of teenagers, mostly girls, a little bit older, also doing some work. They were fixing a busted up sidewalk which is right along a route I take to the bus stop everyday. And that big pile of garbage which I would pass daily for two years was bundled up into a few dozen bags. Lamposts that were dug up as barricades are replanted in the ground. There are Egyptian flags everywhere. This is one view of the revolution and young Egyptians are taking pride in their city and their environment. It makes perfect sense, but there is something really amazing in seeing it. As we continued toward home, the midans in the neighborhood had newly painted curbs and especially well-tended gardens. There are still quite a few potholes in the street, primarily from the barricades that folks had set up in the neighborhood a few weeks ago.

On campus, the service workers (security and custodians) were on strike, which is great to see. There are striking workers throughout the country—working folks have learned the lessons from Tahrir Square and putting them into practice in extraordinary ways right away. It was great to reconnect with colleagues. I enjoyed my time with my students, and look forward to more classroom time. On the way home from campus, I saw a few more tanks, but still fewer than before I left.

On the state, and some images

The time for returning to Egypt is rapidly approaching—tomorrow, Saturday, to be precise. I did not get a chance to write everything I had hoped for a range of reasons—from the mundane lack of time to the rapidly shifting and transforming situation in Egypt itself, where things I saw, thought, and felt, have been entirely upended by subsequent developments. Two weeks ago feels like epochs ago, and in some ways it is.

So, to be brief, I do intend to be a more faithful and frequent (not sure exactly what that means yet) blogger during the coming months. And we will see what transpires. Needless to say, I am excited to return and looking forward to getting back into the classroom.

One thing I hope for this blog is to provide some context for some of the pictures I took. On Wednesday, February 2, I went to Tahrir Square, wanting to witness what was happening in the city I have called home for the past three years. Partly, I was inspired by the demonstration the day before which attracted millions (literally) of people, and disappointed that I had missed it. I was also sad to be leaving the following day—it felt inevitable and like the right decision—but I was sad to be leaving so many friends and comrades at such a critical historical moment. Anyway, so I spent a few hours downtown, careful to return via the subway before curfew at 3pm.

The Wednesday I was there was also the day that pro-Mubarak thugs on horses and camels attacked demonstrators. And it was also the day when foreign journalists were under attack from some of the same people. Fortunately, I missed the violence by about an hour. I did want to share a couple of images from that day.

First, when I entered the square, there was checkpoint, organized by the demonstrators themselves. I showed my id (US passport) and was politely searched. They saw my camera, and I was allowed to enter. It was very professional. In this picture, you can see a group of women off to the right because they had separate lines for men and women (with women searching women). Part of what struck me about this scene was that you had the demonstrators in control of the square, which included performing the security functions one typically associates with the state (either the police or the military). My understanding is that at other times and other positions, the checkpoints were much more rigidly controlled, and that the military was involved. (Though I understand that female civilians assisted the military in those instances—which enabled women to bring in things that the military might have disallowed.)

Still, the military was on the scene. And here is a crappy short video I took of what some of them were doing—cleaning up garbage with the assistance of civilians.

It was really a remarkable scene to see police/military functions civilianized in multiple directions. Security performed by civil society, and military performing a civilian service. The latter is, I think, crucial for the future of the country—will the military continue to serve the people in this way? Is there a way to maintain the military as an institution (something that is probably needed to maintain stability), while creating a new civil society profile for them?

There were many things I saw that were unfamiliar and that, perhaps, did not feel “right,” but I did not feel like I had instincts. I had some good conversations with people although I was awkwardly approached while taking pictures and asked if I was a journalist. I insisted no (unaware of the targeting of western journalists to come—Egyptian and regional journalists had long been targets), and my interlocutor walked away. There were also, mostly outside the square, small groups of pro-Mubarak folks. You can see them carrying pictures of the then-President. Presumably police families. I did not see anyone on horseback. This is another lo-fi short video I took—you can see a small argument taking place off to the right.

The civilian security was clearly overtaken by the pro-regime thugs (though I believe they entered from a different side of the square). The reasons for checking identification also became clear. When the thugs were apprehended, as was widely reported, their id cards were all police ids, which presumably is what security was looking for, and why the thugs needed horses to rush the barricades and lines.

The Protesters' Demands

When I was in Tahrir, I noticed a group of activists painting an enormous sign on the ground, and took this picture.

When reading the excellent Jadaliyya website a couple of days ago, I saw the amazing 10-story-tall finished product.





At first, I had thought that is was to send a message to helicopters that were newly hovering over the demonstration, but in fact it turned into this gorgeous banner, listing the demands of the protesters. They are translated into English on the wesbite.